Harvest Home
by nomdeplume1313
Summary: It's Thanksgiving in the Winchester household, but with shifters involved, it won't be the traditional holiday Dean has planned. Part of the Home in Motion Universe. Established Destiel, Sam/OFC, Bobby/Jody Mills.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: A bit of Thanksgiving fluff mixed with a hunt of sorts. This takes place in the Home in Motion universe after the events of Time Warp. And, of course, I don't own most of the characters, and I make no profit off of this story._

Chapter 1

Kiss the Cook

"_Thanksgiving comes to us out of the prehistoric dimness, universal to all ages and all faiths. At whatever straws we must grasp, there is always a time for gratitude and new beginnings."_

_J. Robert Moskin_

Images of Dean Winchester, his angel and a baby flooded his mind. He saw Sam Winchester and a pretty blond woman. "These are the enemy, and it isn't difficult to guess where they might be hiding. Go to Sioux Falls, my children. Go and find them."

He woke up with a splitting headache. Beside him, his wife placed her hand on his knee. "Sweetheart?" It was dark in the room, but he supposed there was enough light for her to see him holding his head. She placed her hands at either of his cheeks and stroked over his cheekbones mildly. "I thought you said this was over that once the Alpha was gone—"

"I was wrong. Others keep trying," he said softly. "I have to go to Sioux Falls. I have to start making arrangements tonight."

"What about Thanksgiving?"

"On hold," he told her, closing his eyes and leaning into the cool touch of her palms. "I'm sorry. This is important. I have to get there first." She kissed him and nodded. He would never understand how he'd gotten such an understanding wife. "Can you call Charlie while I make arrangements for the jet?"

"Of course. Will you be safe?"

"She will. Me? I'm not so sure. I'd hoped I would never have to meet the Winchesters face-to-face. No such luck."

#

Dean had Sam's computer open on the counter, and the turkey sitting in the sink, finally thawed. The thing hadn't been easy to move frozen, and his one attempt to pick it up now that it wasn't hadn't gone well. Damned thing was slippery.

He put his hands under its arms, er, wings, and began to lift it, all twenty pounds of it.

"Do you need my help?" Cas suddenly asked from behind Dean, startling him.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelled as the bird went sliding back into the sink. "No. No mojo if I can help it," he said, once again trying to grab the damned turkey. "Unless this big fucker falls onto the floor or something."

"Language, Dean," Cas reminded because Johnny was now at that parroting stage.

"He's napping."

"And I was suggesting assistance of the 'non-mojo' kind." He even did the air quotes.

"You need to learn how to use those right," Dean said with a grunt as he lifted the turkey again and put it into the shiny, new roasting pan. "It's only a quote if it's something someone has already said it." The hunter looked at the bird in its pan, thinking for a moment, and disturbing even himself, that the big, plucked thing looked almost obscene splayed out like that.

He looked back at the instructions on the laptop to see what he was supposed to do next. Butter and salt on top of the skin, pats of butter under it. Make sure the baggie with the innards was out, which it was. Easy enough.

He snorted at the next line in the recipe, noting it was easy and nothing to get squeamish about. Shoving his hands under the skin of a turkey was child's play after you'd used a saw to decapitate a vampire.

Dean realized, as he was busy getting to second base with the turkey that Cas was still standing there, looking for something to do. "Why don't you get a start on peeling the potatoes?" The angel nodded and began washing them, one by one. Dean was glad to see he didn't have to remind him to cut his mojo. He wanted to do this the traditional way, as much as possible.

"When will Emma and her mother be arriving?" Cas asked.

"Any time now," Dean said. "They'll be pretty be beat when they get here. They've been driving since before dawn. With the dog." Cas made to comment about the animal, or that Dean really wasn't comfortable having it there.

"I wish she would have allowed me to bring them here."

Dean washed the excess butter off his hands, nudging his partner with his hip to make room at the sink. "Emma's mom is dealing okay with all of the weird stuff that goes on with us, but she's just not ready yet for angel express. I'm not even sure how much she'll take of the basic stuff with you guys. Do you think the others can behave themselves?"

"No, but I think they will try."

"Best we can probably hope for."

They both carried the now-clean potatoes over to the kitchen table, using their shirts to carry as many as possible in each trip. The last trip included knives to begin peeling. "Careful to only get the skin," Dean said. "We don't want to lose a lot of the potato with the peel."

Cas nodded and began his work, managing near perfection and even achieving perfectly spiral cuts around the potatoes. The hunter suspected that his partner was using his mojo anyway, maybe even unintentionally, but he was making such quick work of the potatoes that Dean wasn't going to complain. He began, instead, chopping Cas's perfectly peeled potatoes into sections and tossing them into the pot of water boiling on the stove.

Together, they made for an efficient team, and the peeling was done quickly, which gave them a little down time, time he suspected other families were spending watching football or the Thanksgiving Day parade or something. That's how it always was on TV, at least. Dean didn't follow sports. It was too difficult, moving around like he did; there was no guarantee he'd get to see the same team play more than twice before he was off to a new city with a new team to follow. He and Sammy used to watch the parade sometimes, and when Johnny got old enough, he thought he might keep up that tradition.

Dean had signed up for the turkey, gravy and mashed potatoes, so he didn't have a lot else left to do. Sheriff Mills was bringing sweet potatoes, stuffing, and green beans. Emma and her mom were bringing the pecan and pumpkin pies, plenty of them, according to Sam. Apparently, Emma had really emphasized Dean's love for pie and the sweet tooth that all of the angels had. And since they were all coming, too, there would probably be a lot of sweet stuff around the house. Sam was outside getting things set up for roasting corn on the cob, which might end up burned if he stayed chef when it was time to do the actual cooking.

For now, all Dean could do was wait.

He moved behind Cas and started rubbing his shoulders. Though he knew that his partner didn't get the aches and pains that Dean did, the hunter enjoyed the excuse for contact. He rubbed slow but firm circles at Cas's shoulder and upper back. He was rewarded for his efforts with a low, growly moan. He knew Cas well enough by now to know that the angel was enjoying it, and Dean was purposely hitting all of the spots he knew Cas liked best.

Dean barely registered the door opening for the angel's noises. He _did_ hear the loud thudding of Sam's footsteps and looked up to the kitchen doorway to see him standing there, eyes covered by a large hand. "If you two are doing what I think you're doing, I'm going to kill you both."

"What do you think we were doing?" Cas asked. "Because I do not think the reality warrants you covering your eyes. We are fully clothed."

Sam tentatively peaked out from between his fingers. "I never know with you."

A woman, shorter with black hair and dark eyes but looking every bit like Emma, stepped to Sam's side. "They are just enjoying time together. Don't be a prude. Otherwise, I might feel the need to make sure you and Emma aren't sharing a bedroom while we're here."

"We don't have to go that far," Sam said.

"You must be Dean," Emma's mother said. "I'm Tish Fletcher." She extended her hand, which Dean quickly leaned forward to shake.

He offered her his winningest smile "Now I see where Emma gets her good looks."

"You don't need to lay it on so thick," she said with a chuckle, but all levity vanished when she really looked at Cas. "Hello, Castiel."

"Hello Tish," he said, and Dean could tell how it hurt him to see her backing away. He gently scratched at the angel's hair and purposely hit all of his most sensitive spots. His other hand, still at his partner's shoulder began purposely hitting right at the juncture of his back and his wings. Cas was practically purring before he jerked away with a huff. "Don't do that. You're making me be impolite."

Dean started to scratch again and Cas flew up from the chair and wheeled around at Dean with a huff somewhere between amusement and irritation. It was so _human_, and just the reaction the hunter had been hoping for. As expected, it made Tish laugh, and hopefully would ease the tension for their Thanksgiving dinner.

Almost instantly, Dean realized the moment when Emma came in with her new dog. He could smell it, as well as hear its nails clicking on the wood floor. She called him Chewie; she'd told him that to make him feel more comfortable about letting him stay. Dean appreciated the gesture from a fellow Star Wars fan, but he still wasn't thrilled about having a dog in the house, not with him and especially not with his son.

Still, Emma wasn't to blame. It was his own fault for hitting it.

_He'd tried to stop when the flash of white and brown and gray started to dart across the road, and he _had_ avoided actually running over the animal, but there was no denying that some damage had been done when the poor dog bounced off of the front bumper. Both he and Sam got out of the car and ran to the dog, the headlights the only light on the near-deserted road this time in the morning. He spared a glance at baby to check the damage to her, and was relieved there was only a small dent he thought he could pop out._

_The damage to the dog, though, was obviously much worse. Baby wasn't a small car and he'd been driving at a clip before he'd slammed on the brakes._

"_Call Cas," Sam said, gently rubbing at the poor animal's head._

"_I can try," Dean said, but he didn't count on the angel being able to come down immediately. Now that he knew he was part of the new Heaven council, Cas had to go to official meetings, and this had been an important one. He ran back to the car, muttering a prayer to Cas in the hopes the angel could come, but even as he was pulling the old blanket out of the trunk, he knew the prayer either hadn't gotten through or the angel couldn't come. This was the second of these kinds of meetings Cas had been to, and that time, as well as this one, Cas had promised that their connection remained strong, and if either Dean or Johnny was in danger, he would know and leave, but otherwise he would be indisposed._

_He returned with the blanket and helped his brother wrap it around the dog and gently place it into Sam's arms. "We need to get him to a vet."_

_Dean considered suggesting that they wait, rather than spending the money on a vet, but he couldn't bring himself to let the animal suffer. The vet might give him drugs that would get him through until Cas could heal him up right. "Put him in the back seat. There was a place in the town ten miles back."_

_Sam got in the seat with the dog and gently scratched at his head and talked to him reassuringly. It almost made Dean feel bad, watching how good he was with the animal, for putting his "no dogs" rule in place. Almost._

_They were still smelly, still unpredictable, still trauma-inducing for him. He didn't care that hellhounds didn't really look like a normal dog, they were close enough to make Dean's heartbeat speed up to unhealthy rates. Didn't mean he'd be an asshole to this one, though, so he drove quickly to the east into the now-rising sun._

_It looked like the vet's office was open, but only just, as he pulled the car into the lot and Sam barreled out with the injured animal cradled in his massive arms. Even Dean could admit the dog was really well behaved, not fighting, just whimpering in pain, as they reached the door to the office and opened it. A few people were already in the waiting area with their pets, and almost immediately, Dean's allergy caught wind of the cats and had his nose itching. Sneezing was bound to follow soon._

"_Please help," Sam said. "We hit a dog with our car."_

_The staff immediately went into action to take care of the animal, and Sam took over explaining what had happened, that Dean had tried to stop, and they had rushed him here as soon as they could. Dean was glad because about halfway through the explanation, the sneezing had started. Thankfully, the staff realized this was an emergency, and a tall, dark-haired woman, a vet from the look of it, took over the animal's care, but not without a hefty side order of glaring at Dean and Sam._

"_You stick with the dog," Dean said. "I'll handle the paperwork." Mostly, he just wanted to stay away from the woman giving them the evil eye._

_He pulled out his cell phone as he filled out forms for payment and forms about the dog's medical history, all of which got marked unknown. It wasn't long before Sam came out and joined him. "They're doing surgery now," he said. His shirt was spotted with the dog's blood. "She was... I don't know if it was intentional or not, but everything that doctor said seemed to be to make me feel guiltier than I already do."_

"_Why should you feel guilty?" Dean asked. "_I_ hit him." Sam shrugged, but it was pretty obvious that the mix of seeing an innocent animal, a kind he liked, hurt the way it was and this doctor's guilt trip. It made Dean really not like her. He sent up another prayer to Cas asking him to come down as soon as he could and then called Bobby to let him know they weren't going to be home until later tomorrow, so would he be okay with Johnny for a while longer. Bobby, naturally, said he would. Dean suspected he liked the extra time with his grandson._

"_She said the dog was a known stray. I think she's trying to get me to take it."_

_Dean rapped him in the nose with a nearby brochure for flea medicine. "No. Bad Sammy. No dogs." It got him a glare, but it made him get out of his funk._

"_I told her you don't like them and I'm living with you at the moment, so you don't have to worry about me being guilted into bringing him home."_

_Dean began to doze as they waited for word on the dog, so he wasn't sure how long had passed before the door to the office opened and a familiar tan trenchcoat moved through the doorway. It had been days since he'd seen the angel, and if anyone in that office had issues with it when he went to give him a hug, they could all blow him. He felt Cas sink into his arms and against his shoulder and heard him take a deep breath at Dean's collar. He almost admitted he missed his partner, but one of the best things about being with Cas was that he didn't need to say that kind of stuff out loud._

"_You hit a dog?" Cas asked._

"_Yeah," Dean said. "Can I talk to you outside?"_

_Cas nodded and they both walked out the door, Sam looking at them curiously, but staying in the waiting room. "As soon as the room with the dog is clear, can you heal him?"_

"_Of course, Dean." The hunter kissed Cas lightly, and asked him how the meeting went, how Johnny had been before he left, how he was... Dean had been domesticated, but most surprising of all was that he kind of liked it._

_Dean came back in at about the same time that the doctor was coming out. He tapped his brother on the arm. "Call Emma. See if she wants the dog." Sam nodded numbly, and it was obvious he wanted to hear how the animal was doing. "Cas is here. He'll be fine."_

"_Right," Sam said, before standing and going to the front of the building to call his girlfriend._

"_He sustained some serious internal bleeding. There's at least two leg fractures that I can see right now, but with TLC, he should pull through for you."_

"_Didn't you do x-rays?" he managed to ask before he began sneezing again._

"_Of his body, as soon as you brought him in. Of his legs? We just did, but our first concern was to take care of the internal damage. Broken bones could wait so that he didn't bleed out before I started surgery."_

"_Sorry," Dean said, realizing he may have jumped the gun in his criticism of the doctor. "Thanks for this, Doctor."_

"_You're going to take the dog?" she asked. Dean had been waiting on that question, but again had to wait before he sneezed. Cas had apparently cleared up the irritation his allergies had caused while they were waiting, but they were building back up all over again._

"_I think my brother explained that it isn't ours."_

"_He's not anybody's."_

"_Then take him to a shelter," Dean said. "I won't have a dog in my house."_

"_Don't you think you're responsible?"_

_He had a nice, witty retort, but he was interrupted by another sneeze. "That's why we brought him here."_

_She turned to the woman at the main desk, "Roberta, could you hand this man his trophy on the way out?"_

"_It's probably somewhere near yours for your biting wit," Dean said. "Tell me, Doctor... Richardson. Have you ever been mauled by a dog? Had your chest ripped to ribbons and bite marks that covered almost your entire body? Known the only thing that kept the dog from going for your jugular was luck and your own arms? Because I have. I also have a fifteen-month-old son, and even if I was ready to deal with having one of those animals in my house, I am not having one around my kid. So, before you go trying to pawning off an animal on people you don't know, why don't you think for a _fucking minute_ about the people _and_ the animal you seem so interested in protecting."_

_At that moment, Sam came back in with a broad smile on his face. "Emma will take him."_

And here Chewie was now. Dean did feel bad for the doctor, because apparently the shelter—which wasn't no-kill—was full, and any new dog would almost certainly lead to the euthanization of a different dog that had been there too long. Still, Dean didn't appreciate her tactics to try and get them to keep the animal.

"Are you sure you're okay having him here?" Emma asked.

"He's fine," Dean said, though he welcomed the sudden distraction of Bobby's truck coming up the driveway early. Once it came to a stop, Dean glanced out of the kitchen window. He saw Bobby, but no Jody, and Bobby was flagging him to come outside and help him with something in the passenger seat. That was... weird.

"Sam, why don't you show Tish around. I'm going to go see what's up with Bobby."

#

Charlie sat in the seat beside her boss. Normally, he was a pretty easy-going man, and he respected her skills, not to mention her ability to keep his secret. She appreciated being appreciated, but this didn't seem like her usual boss. Today, though, he looked scared, and given what she knew about him and what she'd learned over the last few months about the Winchesters, she couldn't really blame him. But it wasn't really helping her nerves.

She watched as he pulled out his phone. "Do you have Dean Winchester's number?"

"Do you think it's a good idea to call him? From what I could find, Sam is much more understanding when it comes to non-humans."

"Dean's the one with a child in the house and an angel at his beck and call. He's the one I have to deal with right now."

#

Castiel stood alongside Dean, picking up that the hunter was unsettled about something relating to Bobby's return. "Bobby shouldn't be here for a few hours at least," the hunter said as they both headed out of the door and toward the truck parked outside.

"You think something is wrong," Cas said. It wasn't a question, so he did not expect, nor did he receive, an answer.

He suspected it was because Bobby had known Dean for as long as he had because as soon as they were close enough for the older hunter to see their faces, he chuckled. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, boys. Some stupid punk tried to break into the hardware store downtown. Jody had to go check it out, and she told me to bring the food here so it can finish cooking."

"You don't seem worried," Castiel noted as he took a pot of what was probably the green beans from the seat of the truck.

"Jody said it happens every year. Someone tries to break into one of the stores when they've ramped up for their Black Friday sales," the older hunter said. "And I can't worry every time she goes to do her job. Not only would she think it was an insult to her abilities if I did, but it's her job, so I'm used to it."

Dean smirked. "Scared of your better half?"

"I wouldn't say that I'm scared. Just cautious. But I might be scared if we don't get this stuff in and cooking."

"Speaking of cooking," said a familiar female voice that came suddenly from Dean's side, "I'm afraid I will need a bit of assistance with this." Azrael held up a bag with what looked like a second turkey, and balanced in her other hand a box that looked loaded with peanut oil, a pot and some kind of device to lift the pot off the ground.

"You know I'm cooking a turkey, right?" Dean asked, and he sounded quite perturbed.

"I am aware, but you will have quite a few guests, and this will be a deep-fried turkey."

"Of course it will be," Dean said with a roll of his eyes. "Do you know how to set it up without torching the place?"

Azrael smirked at him, offering all of the amusement that she usually did when Dean offered her his usual sarcastic remarks. She seemed to appreciate his lack of fear, but Castiel had not yet been able to overcome his own when it came to the angel of death. "If I wanted to burn your house down, I would have done it by now."

"Sam has everything set up to roast some corn in a while. You can get everything going next to him. Just don't take any cooking tips from him."

Castiel could hear the sound of another car approaching the house, and it didn't sound like Jody's car or her sheriff's vehicle. He saw Azrael looking into the distance with an almost bemused look on her face. "This should be interesting," she muttered as a black car with tinted windows began to approach the house. Looking at the car and the confused expressions on both of the hunters' faces, Castiel wasn't sure he wanted to know what would make the other angel look so amused.

Then, Dean's phone began to ring.


	2. Bitter Memories

Chapter 2

Bitter Memories

_"Personally, I love Thanksgiving traditions: watching football, making pumpkin pie, and saying the magic phrase that sends your aunt storming out of the dining room to sit in her car." Stephen Colbert, American Comedian_

Bobby watched Dean's face turn to a frown as he looked at the number on his phone. Apparently, he didn't know it, and that fact on its own wouldn't be a problem; there was a whole slew of hunters now who called the Winchesters for support and advice. But none of them standing there was foolish enough to assume that the call had nothing to do with the big, black car sitting in the driveway. It also didn't help that Azrael, creepy thing that she was, looked intrigued by this turn of events. Bobby was pretty sure that what she found interesting was probably bad news for them.

Dean pressed talk and then speakerphone almost simultaneously, and still had time to look perturbed at the angel, who was busy moving between the black car and his all-but-husband. It wasn't a surprise he didn't like Cas's protective streak. "Hello?" Dean said loud enough to be heard over the gold winter wind.

"Hello, Dean Winchester. I can guess that you've connected this call to the car now sitting in your driveway."

"Who are you?" Dean asked.

"That's actually a complicated answer, so let me explain. I'm here to help, and I have in my car one of my employees. Her name's Charlie Bradbury. She's a tech expert who can help you set up a security system and a computer system that can out-do anything any hunter has ever seen."

"What makes you think we need a security system?" Bobby asked because his house had been secure and now it was practically fortified thanks to the angels."

"Bobby Singer, I think?" the voice on the phone said. The man had a slight drawl, and Bobby could tell that there was a light wanting to turn on in Dean's noggin, but something wasn't quite meshing to connect the wiring to make it happen.

"That's me."

"I am pleased to meet you, so to speak. I have heard good things. What you have done to create a hunter network sans high tech equipment is nothing short of amazing."

"Thanks," he replied for lack of something else to say. He was fairly sure, from the guy's tone, that that wasn't a dig at his abilities or his lack of technology.

"So, let's talk a little more about Charlie. Charlie is a non-possessed, 100-percent-human who has read more about about you and me and federal secrets than is probably wise for her own safety. What I'm asking is that you guarantee her safety. No matter how you react to me."

"There something about you that might make us want to do something to you? Because you're talking like you aren't human," Dean said.

"Personally, I consider myself very human, but on your scale of human and not, I'm probably not falling into the human category. I'm a shapeshifter, and we had a friend in common. That's why I'm here. Because even if you _did_ get him killed for helping you, he never

resented you. He even considered you a friend."

Bobby could pinpoint the moment the lightbulb lit up in Dean's head, and the moment after when something just snapped. "You son of a bitch! You're fucking wearing Ash!" Bobby tried to place the name. Roadhouse. Mullet. Idiot savant. "How long have you been doing it? How much do you know?"

"Ash and I were at MIT together. I had his permission to use his identity when a hunter outed me. Now, I'm coming here for a reason, and it isn't to spoil your Thanksgiving. I'm just asking that you hear me out and don't shoot me."

"Or me," a woman's voice added. Probably this Charlie person.

"I'm going to step out of the car now," this other Ash said.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" the woman's voice asked more quietly.

The man didn't acknowledge her worries for his safety. "And I will apologize for any unhappy memories I'm bound to drag up." The door opened and a man with dirty blond hair, a well tailored suit and fear written across his features got out with his hands in the air. Bobby could vaguely remember what the young guy from the Roadhouse had looked like, but dressed as he was with his neat haircut, he looked like a different person entirely. He seemed to be signaling to the person in the back of the car to stash where they were and then gave instructions to the driver.

Cas swiftly moved in front of Dean to guard him, and if this situation wasn't so explosive, Bobby might have laughed at how perturbed Dean looked at the angel's protectiveness. The man kept one hand raised while the other unbuttoned his suit and showed he wasn't hiding any weapons.

"I know you have no reason to trust me, but I am here to help. You were spotted by a skinwalker a few months ago, yes?"

"What's that got to do with you?"

"They're a close cousin of ours, and apparently, they have been trying to spread the news about your bouncing bundle of joy for all that time. Didn't do much good in the skinwalker community. They're fragmented, stuck with pack mentality and generally scared of the Winchesters. So they reached out to shifter, to the people vying to be the new and generally scared of the Winchesters, like any reasonable creature is. So they reached out to shifters, to the people vying to be the new Alpha. They found a strong one, too, and he direct-dialed into our heads to find you and your family, then kill you."

"That isn't helping your case," Dean warned.

"Not all of us long to indulge in greed or wrath or lust. Have you ever considered that the shifters you've met might have been the bad apples? Thousands of us live nice, normal lives. But unfortunately for me, because _he_ liked you, I like you, at least enough to want to help."

"He doesn't appear to be lying," Azrael said. She'd phrased that like it was a possibility this shapeshifter was deceiving her, but Bobby couldn't imagine that she could be duped by anyone. Sometimes, he felt like she really undersold her abilities.

#

Ash's eyes darted to the woman—no angel—who was vouching for him. There was something unnerving about her, from her appearance to her incredible strength, to the fact she was clearly a friend of the Winchesters, but he was certain she was none of their known angel cohorts. Balthazar, Metatron and Gabriel all had preferred forms. This one was an unknown, and in Ash's experience, unknowns were very bad.

"You'll probably want to call your brother, and maybe get us all inside where it's warm and you have weapons," he said as he tried to retain his calm. "Please understand that me showing up on your doorstep is far more frightening for me than it is for you."

"Not that I'm exactly frightened by a guy in a suit, but how do you figure that?" Dean asked.

"Because you're Dean freaking Winchester. You and your brother are the monsters hiding under little creatures' beds." And damned if Dean didn't puff up a bit at that. Ash had to remind himself that Dean didn't see creatures, particularly shifters, as anything but subhuman.

"Charlie is going to stay in the car for her own safety. She is here because she works for me and because she is, apparently, a 'huge fan' of the Supernatural series." As was actually a little pleased to see Dean and his angel grimace at that. Then again, Ash didn't think he'd like it much if his entire life was documented in a set of books.

He had inched a little closer to these well-meaning serial killers. If they could just let him into the house, he could explain. Sam actually, if he remembers the original Ash telling him about his "joke on MIT," knew some of the story and could corroborate it. "I am coming to you as a husband and father," he said, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket slowly. He flipped it open to show the picture of his wife and his two girls. "I'm here because I know you have a little boy you need to protect. I'm here to _help_."

"I can protect him just fine," Dean snapped, but he was at least offering a glance at the photo in Ash's hand.

Everything was pointing to this going down as the best possible scenario until a scream came from inside the house. Ash suddenly felt a blade at his neck. He was relatively sure it wasn't silver, but he was equally as sure it could kill him all the same. Just like the strong hand at his arm could probably break his bones, stronger than a human's or not.

"Go," the woman told the others. "I will keep an eye on the car."

And with that, Ash got his very first experience with angel travel.

#

Sam was trying not to laugh because he had enough experience with relationships to know that it wouldn't really engender him to his girlfriend's mother if he found humor at her expense. Instead, he tried to force a stern expression on his face and lecture Gabriel about proper etiquette for appearing in front of strangers. The angel only gave him an odd look and said, "What? Castiel told me she knew."

"Knowing and being prepared are two different things," Emma chimed in as she rubbed her mother's back. Tish looked like she was trying not to hyperventilate.

It took a few seconds before she asked breathily, "Which one are you?"

"Gabriel, he answered with a grin. It only widened at her confounded expression. He was one of the best known of all of the angels, thanks to church Christmas pageants the world over. He also failed to meet almost anyone's expectations of what he would be.

"Sam! Emma! Tish?" Dean yelled from downstairs.

"We're okay, Dean. It was just Gabriel scaring Tish by being Gabriel."

"I resent that," the archangel snapped back, but he was at least checking on Tish to be sure she _wasn't_ actually hyperventilating. Sam thought he even heard him actually apologize to the woman, which was an improvement on his too playful personality.

"We've got another problem," Dean said. "I need you down here, now. Bring silver." Sam and Emma exchanged looks.

"I'll keep an eye on Tish and Johnny," Gabriel said. "Emma, too, if she's staying here."

Emma had already pulled out the silver pocketknife she had made shortly after they'd met. Sam could guess she wasn't going to hide out with her mom unless Tish made her stay, and it looked like the woman wanted to do that. Tish was still having issues with the fact that Emma had a growing arsenal of weapons, that she was broadening her knowledge of monsters with personally induced homework each night, and that she was now stamping all jewelry she sold with an anti possession symbol, which Tish had initially been confused meant the exact opposite of demonic or satanic.

Sam ran into his bedroom and got the silver plated hunting knife he kept there. "Let's go, then," he said, trying to ignore the frown of disapproval on Tish's face. Having her know he was a hunter was bad enough, but if something had actually come to their doorstep, it was going to be really difficult to get the woman on board with this relationship.

"I've got them," Gabriel assured him. "And if you need me, shout."

The hunter nodded and spared Tish one last apologetic look before he went down the stairs and headed for the living room. He stopped dead in his tracks, causing Emma to slam into his back, thankfully not with the knife. "Ash?" Sam asked before his mind put the pieces together that his brother had told him to get the silver and that the real Ash was dead. "A shifter."

"Hello, Sam," this Ash said, trying to look calm, but his voice made it clear he was all nerves. Sam couldn't really blame him. Cas had his arm wrapped around his shoulders from behind and his angel blade to the shifter's throat.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked.

"Like I explained to your brother," Ash said, "I'm here to help. Shifters know about your family, from Johnny to the young lady standing at your side. And they are bound to attack any time now."

"And you're just here out of the goodness of your heart," Dean said derisively.

"Yes, actually, I am."

"So why pick Ash? Why not someone we didn't know was dead?"

"Because this is me. Has been for more than a decade." Ash looked at Sam. "I tried to explain this to your brother, but perhaps some of this story might sound familiar to you. When I first met Ash, my name was George Winslow."

#

"_Looking for a cheap place to live?" asked a voice with a sort of twangy drawl behind him. George turned to see a white kid with what looked like a fairly impressive mullet, if someone could actually call that impressive. George was leery of this man, and not because he was black. Hell, George had only been black for three years. He didn't have the history of racism or any reason to fear"good old boys."_

_But he always feared someone getting too close and figuring him out._

_Then, he realized the guy was holding a stack of fliers looking for a roommate. "My roomie couldn't cut it," the mulleted man said, offering George one of the fliers. "Started freaking out at exam time."_

"_What's the place like? Is it quiet?" George was trying to act like he hadn't been living in his car for the last semester."_

"_Sometimes. I mean, put on a Titans football game and give me some PBR, it isn't so quiet."_

"_It'd be just you?" George had been hoping to find a place by himself, but just one roommate he could handle._

"_Yeah. Place has two bedrooms, but the living room is kind of on a curve, so it was damned hard to get chairs in there, let alone a couch or a bed. The guy who turned it into apartments cut it up all weird, but that makes it cheap."_

_George nodded. "Let's have a look."_

_They had to ride a bus to get to the apartment, and Ash just never seemed to shut up. He seemed like he should have been an idiot, but it only took about five minutes of talking to him to realize he was a genius. He had plans and concepts that George's mind could barely wrap around, let alone allow him to carry on anything resembling a dialogue._

_When they got to the apartment, it was clear that Ash hadn't been kidding. Not only was it accommodating the curved architecture of the Victorian-era building, but one of the walls was actually at an angle. Ash said he'd never really gotten to see the other apartment, but he assumed it had something to do with the installation of the larger doors._

_It was a quirky place, but George liked it. "I'll take it."_

#

_He'd been living with Ash for two years before the hunter came. His name was Travis, and he'd stumbled across George in trying to find out about a rugaru who was about George's age. He'd befriended Ash first; there was a lot about Ash's personality that lent itself to getting along with hunters. But what everyone tended to forget about Ash was just how smart he really was, not to mention that he had an abnormally high alcohol tolerance, at least before it started affecting just how much of a genius he was._

_Ash managed to get everything out of Travis before he came running into the apartment, half-smashed, but making surprising sense, despite the slurring. "Travis is this thing called a hunter," he said. "He said you were a shifter."_

"_Don't be silly," George said. "You're drunk."_

"_Yes," he slurred. "I am. But I'm not wrong, either. Dude, he's going to sober up, and then he's going to come here and kill you. Because that's apparently what hunters do."_

_Ash calmly made coffee while George began to panic about what he was going to do, where he was going to go, and how his life was over._

"_I have an idea," he said, pouring the coffee into a mug and adding more sugar than was probably healthy. "And that's why I'm trying to sober up. I need to convince him that you are already dead. That I took his whole spiel to heart and did the deed myself. Maybe tell him you panicked when you found out I knew and attacked me."_

"_And how exactly do you expect to make that believable? There needs to be a body."_

"_There will be. I'll be burning it when I call him."_

"How_ are you getting a body? I mean, you know that I'm not a monster, not a killer like he says I am."_

"_I know that," Ash said. "But I have a friend who works at a butcher's shop and the biology department has a few real skeletons."_

"_Those were bodies donated for science. Other people's skeletons," George said as he began contemplating how he would pack. He'd need to escape and quickly._

_Ash gave him this strange smile. "Yeah. All shifters have to be crazy monsters who slaughter people. Look at you: worried about a dead man's skeleton if it could save your life. Yeah. Killers. Horrible, all of you." He rolled his eyes. "You're going to help me get the skeleton. I'm going to burn it, and go off to find out all of the things I didn't know existed."_

_George looked at him, and under other circumstances, he would have been amused. Leave it to Ash to just be curious. "I'll need to go to the homeless neighborhood, borrow a face until I can find something more permanent."_

"_No need," Ash said. "I've got that taken care of. You shouldn't have to start over. You're almost done with your degree."_

"_You've got a senior willing to let me copy him?"_

"_Grad student, actually. He's got this fellowship, scholarship, too, plus a sweet bartending gig until he finds something more permanent. Though you'll have to take on his student loans, sorry, dude."_

_George scrutinized Ash carefully. "You want me to be you?"_

"_Yeah. I mean, it isn't mechanical engineering, but computer engineering and networking, that's not bad, right? And you can tap into my head when you need to if you don't know an answer. There's bound to be a learning curve. Different area, skipping two years..."_

"_You can't be serious. People will get suspicious."_

"_Nah," Ash said, draining a cup of coffee. "I'll have that covered."_

_They had been friends for a while now, but George wasn't used to people doing something nice for him. "What's the catch?"_

"_Keep the mullet for a year, see if it grows on you." That was accompanied with a grin that George would grow to miss._

#

"I remember talking to ash about that. He said that he liked to mess with MIT for kicking him out. It was all real? The tech business in St. Louis, the MIT alumni magazines? That was you?"

"All me," Ash said. Dean approached and took the wallet from him, looking at the picture of Ash with his family. Castiel was still waiting for word from the hunter to let his blade drop from the man's throat.

"So, how exactly do you explain to your board members that your girls don't look anything like you or your wife."

"Moira and I tell them that they're adopted from China," Ash replied back in a monotone. "Because they were. Being a shifter in this society... I wouldn't inflict that on an innocent child." Castiel could empathize with this man's desire to provide something better for his children. Though Johnny was beautiful in Castiel's eyes, he couldn't help but worry about how the boy's "deformity" might get him treated in the years to come. Castiel wanted to shield him from that, and he had considered seeking other ways to correct the boy's hand, but there were limits even to his skills now as an archangel.

"Not to mention it's probably hard to explain why your children keep exploding and changing," Sam said.

"There's that, too," Ash said. He didn't sound all that amused by Dean. It was a contrast to the stories Castiel had heard about Ash, to his own interactions with the man's soul in Heaven. This Ash had obviously borrowed his friend's appearance, but not the entirety of his personality.

"Does your wife know?" Emma asked. Castiel wondered if her own position in this family gave her special perspective on the shifter's wife.

"Of course," Ash replied earnestly. "I told her everything."

"What if she had told people? Or thought you were crazy and told people that?" Dean asked. Castiel could see the conflict for the hunter; it was so palpable, he could practically feel it. He was hurt that this man looked like his old friend, but wanted to trust him and hurt him for that same reason. He wanted to believe this story, of the family man just wanting to help. He also wanted to rely on everything he'd always known about shifters, that they were horrible creatures who did bad things.

"I knew I could trust her. I know you and he..." And though Castiel was standing behind the shifter, he could guess he was doing something with his face to indicate the angel. "...have had your trust issues in the past, but Moira and I have been solid from the beginning." The words brought up an old shame that Castiel was beginning to assume he might never actually have resolved. He met Dean's eyes and found no hardness there. The feeling was again tangible, so much so that the angel questioned if Dean was purposely using their connection to ensure that the angel knew he had been long since forgiven.

"So, tell me what you know." Dean gave Castiel a nod to drop the blade, but he wasn't foolish enough to put it away.

#

Charlie squeaked when a lithe woman plopped into the seat beside her. "What would Hermione do? What would Hermione do?" She looked at the woman's too-thin face, thinking that the pronounced nose was probably the biggest thing making her _not_ look like a skeleton. This woman, an angel, she guessed, was looking at her intently, like she could see her inside and out. "Are you what's hiding under a dementor's hood?"

And that made the woman laugh. Though she looked like she was chuckling pretty hard at it, the sound was actually pretty soft. "Charlie Bradbury, even if that isn't really your name, I quite like you."

"First it's 'I like you,'" Charlie said. "Then, zap! Frog time."

"Not a witch, Charlie," she said.

"You knew the reference?" Charlie wasn't used to _people_ getting her references. This _angel_ had just got two of them.

"Which am I? Flemeth or Morrigan?" Well, this woman still made Charlie want to pee a little out of fear, but she somehow knew Harry Potter and video games, and that was cool.


	3. Shell Game

Chapter 3

Shell Game

_"We understand how dangerous a mask can be. We all become what we pretend to be." Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind_

"You're Gabriel?" Tish asked, eying up the new angel suspiciously. She wasn't sure what she found more disturbing, that the Christmas angel had such a warped sense of humor or that something so powerful could be so gentle and doting on the little boy pulling toys out of his toybox.

"The one and only. Surprising, I know."

"Just a little," she said. "Emma's tried to explain what things have been right and wrong in our beliefs about angels, but I always assumed you would be more serious, professional."

"With my two attention hog brothers? There were only two options for those of us born after them, either become grateful for whatever scrap of attention you could get from the old man or the big brothers or you become a cynic. I became a cynic."

Tish watched the little boy as he smiled and played with the angel. "Can't you fix his hand?" she asked.

Gabriel ran his fingers through the boy's light red hair. "We can fix things, but we can't mess with the basic programming. If he'd lost it in an accident, sure. But he was born this way., and even though it means that he will have a rough life, it also makes him who he is I've had it out with the old man about this in the past, same as with the fact that we can't always get involved in human affairs."

Given what had happened to Emma, that was something Tish had been thinking about from the moment she'd first met Castiel. "Why is that?"

"Because there are too few of us and too many of you, and ultimately, humanity is only at its best when it has the ability to choose on its own. I mean, look at Dean, as an easy example. The man was practically an atheist until he had real live proof he was wrong, but for all of the comments my brothers have made about his past and his own problems, you'd be hard-pressed to say his soul wasn't worthy of heading up there." He pointed to the ceiling, but Tish got his meaning. "He's also one of the most independent, choice-focused people I've ever met. He's on par with Dad on that. They both love free will."

He chuckled as he watched Johnny find a tiny Loki doll and excitedly toss it in his direction.

"It's all clear!" came a shout from downstairs.

Gabriel scooped the baby under his arms and pulled him to his chest. Johnny quickly snuggled into place beneath the archangel's chin. Tish couldn't help but smile, yet marvel at the sight. "It must be much simpler to be this young and have no idea that you or his father are any different than anyone else."

"He knows, actually," Gabriel said. "I mean, as much as a baby can _know_. The kid's the descendant of a few dozen of the heavy hitters, Biblically speaking. Moses, Elijah, Joshua, Ishmael, Abraham, Adam and Eve, Esther, Ruth..." He stopped in the hallway and directed Tish's attention to the little boy. "Watch this." Gabriel didn't seem to be doing anything, but it was clear that he was. Johnny's eyes immediately shut and his left arm moved to touch something in the air. "He can feel my wings. Not sure if he can see them, or if he's just seen Cas's."

"And most people can't feel them?"

"Nope. I'm moving one against your side right now and you are none the wiser." He chuckled as Tish touched the air.

"I guess I'm not a descendant of anyone special."

"Well, most people have a little of Adam and Eve in them," he said. "And you have..." He looked at her closely. "A little of Aaron."

"Moses' brother?" Tish asked as they started down the stairs. "So we are very, very distant cousins, Johnny and I."

"You would be anyway. Most people are related a few times over somehow." They walked into the living room to find a well dressed man in his mid thirties sitting in a chair and looking ill at ease. The door opened to a lanky woman who could have been anywhere between forty and seventy. She had few lines on her face to belie her age, and her gaunt features may have aged her further. Behind her was a young woman close to Emma's age, perhaps closer to Sam or Dean. Her hair was red, and her face animated as they were obviously in the middle of a long conversation."

"How long did it take you to beat Skyrim?" the younger woman was asking as they walked in together.

"Time is very, very relative to me," the other woman said. She had an air of the otherworldly about her, and Tish began to wonder if she was something not human as well. "And I am also very thorough. So it was at least 85 hours."

"Imperials or Stormcloaks?"

"Imperials, but mostly because I was playing an Imperial."

"Tall and lean. It makes sense that you would. I was a Khajiit. I sided with the Stormcloaks."

"Charlie?" the uncomfortable-looking man finally said, which made the redheaded woman look in his direction. "Do you want to start setting up the security system?"

"Sure. Azrael was nice enough to bring all of the boxes onto the porch. You know, she's kind of awesome."

"Also the angel of death," the man said.

"Is that supposed to make her less cool?" Charlie began looking over the electrical and internet connections beside Bobby's decidedly dated computer.

"You play video games now?" Dean asked the angel with so little formality—given Azrael's title—it surprised Tish more than the way he interacted with Castiel.

"Have since Pong."

"Don't get me started on Pong," Charlie said as she crouched on the floor.

#

"So a whole bunch of shifters are going to descend on this town?" Bobby asked, watching as Charlie began to work on his computer system, while talking to Azrael about Skyrim and arrows to knees. "How close do you think they were?"

"Unfortunately," Ash said, as he sat on the sofa with Cas still keeping a close eye on him, "the only one I'm connected to is the so-called 'Alpha.' So I have no idea. But it makes sense that there would be others who could get here at least as quickly as I did."

"And what would their first move be, if they weren't law abiding shifters like yourself?" Bobby asked, beginning to worry about Jody and her break-in downtown.

"Try to get to you. Either cause enough trouble you got involved or find someone you might trust to get here close enough."

"There was a break-in downtown," Bobby said, and though he may have thought of this first, it was a credit to the two boys as their heads shot up and they looked first at Bobby, then at one another, and finally at the shifter wearing their old friend's skin. "What are the odds it's a shifter?"

"Better than usual," Ash said.

"I need to get in touch with Jody now." The police in Sioux Falls, due to the number of supernatural events that tended to hit the town, had protocols for non-human arrests, but they needed a heads up that this was a possibility.

"I'll take you," Azrael said, before either of the two other angels could volunteer. Oddly enough, the angel of death was actually Bobby's second choice of the three. He just didn't trust Gabriel, and though Azrael still had a way to go before she was up there with Cas, she compensated for being damned powerful. "Souls are my business. I can match the soul with the person."

Scratch that. She was all the way to the top now. Even Cas couldn't do that with shifters or skinwalkers, because he saw only a human soul, something Bobby tried not to focus on when he needed to think of them as monsters. "Let's go, then."

Bobby felt a weight rest on his shoulder and less than a second later, they were standing in an alley downtown. He eyed the angel warily; he'd gone angel express a few times over the last few years, and it had never felt like that. Azrael offered him a knowing smile. "Don't go poking at that with a stick, Bobby."

Yeah, that was really going to make him stop.

They'd arrived within a block or so of the jewelry store. The flashing blue and red lights of the patrol cars lit up the small alley where he was now standing beside the angel. He had to admit some appreciation for the fact that Azrael had far more social skills than she appeared to, given her overall offputting demeanor. She at least knew that, despite the fact that Jody and her deputies knew about angels and the supernatural, the public at large did not. It was also probably a good idea not to appear suddenly and give even those aware of angels heart attacks.

As soon as they rounded the corner, Bobby saw two sheriff's cars parked out front, one of which he recognized as Jody's. He quickly crossed the street and tapped on the glass of Jody's car, where she was sitting, calling dispatch on her CB radio. She wound down the window. "Bobby?"

"Your burglar might be a shifter," he said.

"Shit," she hissed, then got on the CB again. "Possible Silver Three in progress. I repeat, possible Silver Three."

She looked behind him to where Azrael was almost certainly standing at this point. "I will be going inside to see if I can spot the shifter by his soul. What are the names of the people who might be inside?"

"Two of my deputies, George Running Deer and Stephanie Arbor, are inside. The owner called from her house, and her name is Clara Varren."

"That will help me to spot an imposter. I will have a look."

"We have a specialist going inside," Jody said into the CB. "Do not fire. I repeat, do not fire at the woman entering in the suit."

Azrael practically glided toward the building. Bobby had to admit that hunting had gotten a lot easier since they became friends with some of Heaven's heavy hitters. He was pretty sure that there was a part of Dean that balked at how easy it was for them now, and once upon a time, Bobby would have, too, but he had been through enough to appreciate that they were no longer alone when they got in over their heads.

"So shifters..." Jody said as she began scanning the laptop in her vehicle. Bobby couldn't help but notice as she switched programs from the criminal database to something else that the name was the same as Ash's company.

"Where did you get that?"

"The boys and I were looking up programs online. I think this was developed as a sort of teacher's aid for mythology classes in college, it's been helpful for us. Lets us make changes and additions. It even matches a lot of what you gave me about various monsters," she said as she scanned through the database."

"First of all," Bobby said, a little insulted she'd pulled that up in the first place, "you have _me_ here. You don't need some kind of creature compendium. Second of all, that program. It was made by a shifter. The one we have at my place who ratted out his family."

Jody looked between the database and Bobby. "What? But this has hunter information. Even on shifters."

"Turns out good ones might just exist, and this one actually wants to help hunters."

"I found Mr. Running Deer unconscious inside," came a voice from behind Bobby. The hunter decided that his earlier praise of the angel might have been premature. She obviously didn't give a damn about scaring people. "I have taken him to a hospital, but I did not cut the connection to the shapeshifter."

"Could you have done that?" Jody asked.

"I could have," Azrael said. "But not without raising the shifter's suspicions. They were close to one another, and I didn't want to risk her safety."

The woman seemed to believe that and gave a sharp nod before seeming to consider what she should do. "George, Stephanie," Jody said into the CB. "We have a lead on the Silver Three. We think he might be armed." Which he almost certainly was now if he had gotten a hold of George's uniform and gun. "I need you to leave the building until we can call for additional back-up."

"Sheriff," came a male voice across the radio, "do you think that's wise?"

"I won't risk either of you. I'd rather you out here with me where we can wait until this burglar sneaks his way out." Bobby had to respect the fact that she kept the anger out of her voice. Everything in her demeanor, from the way her back went straight to how her hand holding the radio mike shook, said that she was pissed off. Not only had the shifter taken George's body, he was using the radio to try to pull the wool over her eyes. "So get your asses back out here."

"There is a good chance," Azrael said once Jody released the button on the mike, "that it will switch to Stephanie if it thinks you're on to it, and there is no guarantee that it will be as kind to her as it was to him."

"You have a code for your deputies if you suspect someone is a shifter?" If Bobby knew his girlfriend, she would. It was the smart thing to do, and Jody tended to do the smart thing.

"Yes. Each deputy has a code. Are you thinking I should tell Stephanie?" Jody asked.

"Actually, I was thinking you should tell 'George.'"

Jody nodded. "Keep him off the trail." Jody got back on the CB. "Stephanie, George, I need you out here soon. Stephanie, I'll need you to talk to our expert out here, tell her what you saw. George, I'm going to need you to take cover behind my car and monitor the building for anything suspicious. Keep a low profile, though. Our expert will handle things."

Both deputies signaled they got the message. Bobby was certain that Dean, who liked to create fake IDs and badges using rock star names, would find her special cue boring, so much so that Bobby wasn't entirely sure what part of her statement over the radio actually was the signal. But the fact it _was_ so basic, so unnoticeable, it made him want to kiss Jody in that moment. Common sense was unbelievably attractive to him.

"What now?" she asked, looking between Bobby and Azrael.

"Now, I wait. Make sure that the area is clear of people, unless you want me to do a lot of memory wiping."

Bobby nodded and grabbed the yellow police line tape to create perimeter as two figures emerged from the building. "George" was playing his part remarkably well, keeping his weapon trained on Stephanie. That was good news. It meant he hadn't shifted to someone else. The hunter barely caught it as Azrael waved her hand to send the gun flying safely beneath Jody's car. Then, the angel, without any physical contact, whammied the shifter so hard that he dropped to the ground almost instantaneously. That only reinforced Bobby's suspicion that this woman was more than just an archangel—and wasn't that just a trip; he'd become blasé about archangels.

"Is he dead?" he asked.

Azrael shook her head. "No. Just unconscious. I suspected you would want him for questioning."

In the meantime, Stephanie was yelling at Jody for not saying her personal warning. Bobby couldn't blame her, though he stood by the tactic for everyone's safety. It was also probably easier for Stephanie than focusing her attention on the powerful being who had taken out a monster with a flick of her wrist.

"We will need to implement something to keep the shifters out of town," she said. "I would suggest a bit of advertising for your business on the main roads in town. A few billboards would suffice." She did another motion with her hand, and Bobby could guess that there were now signs for the salvage yard all over town. "That should lead them out of town and to your house, which is much simpler to protect."

Bobby knew Dean wouldn't like a whole bunch of creatures being directed to the house where his son was, but he and his brother were the reasons that they were in Sioux Falls to begin with.

"We should get 'George' back to the house."

"Agreed." And like that, Bobby found himself back in his home, smack dab in the middle of the panic room.

"So none of these symbols have any effect on you?" he asked.

"I thought you were aware they didn't," Azrael said as she bound the shiftter on the bed in the center of the room.

"We going to talk about the fact that there's no way you're any normal archangel?"

"Again, I thought that went without saying."

"Dean knows, doesn't he?" Bobby asked. He'd noticed the other hunter's strange behavior.

"He does, and he is... I don't know that comfortable is the proper word for it, but perhaps accepting is the best choice," she said. "He wouldn't allow me around his son, otherwise..

"Anyone else?" Bobby didn't think so, since no one was acting nearly half as suspicious as Dean.

"No. Dean's barred from telling."

"Just like I'll be."

"I quite like that I don't have to explain these things to you," Azrael said.

"So I can tell you—"

"Or Dean."

"That you're Death. But no one else." She nodded.

"Now, unless you wish to be here while I investigate this man's soul, I recommend you go upstairs." Bobby thought it better to take the suggestion, and not just because the angel was actually an ancient being. He didn't want to be around while the shifter screamed.

#

Dean had just finished installing the last of the silver doorknobs on the outside of the house and went to the kitchen to check on the turkey. He was giving his family a Thanksgiving if it killed him. He saw Cas, pouting slightly, as he fed Johnny a late lunch. The angel had been effectively evicted from the livingroom when it became obvious that he didn't have the slightest clue about computers or wiring. Even Tish had been authorized to help installing the security system.

Hell, even Metatron and Balthazar had been brought in to help—on opposite sides of the house because things were still weird between them.

"Someone has to watch him, too," Dean said, rubbing his hand over Cas's shoulders as Johnny insisted he get to hold the spoon and Cas tried to convince the boy to at least let him help. Johnny thought he was a pro with a spoon, but he had an uncanny knack of pouring the baby food goop down his arm rather than get any in his mouth.

"I do not like feeling useless," Cas said. "Anyone can feed Johnny."

"With his independent attitude right now, not really. And someone has to keep him safe while we do all this work. Sam and Bobby, I'd trust to keep him as safe as I would. You are the only one who might just do it better." Cas seemed to realize that was one hell of a compliment and offered Dean a proud smile. "I hate to ask this while you're watching Johnny," he said, treading this water carefully, "can you keep an eye on the potatoes?"

Cas let out a sigh, but nodded his head and asked Dean what he needed to look for. He told him, then gave him a quick peck on the lips before prepping to go back outside into the cold. What he didn't expect was to see Bobby coming into the living room the same time he did. "Was it a shifter?"

"It was. Azrael's got it downstairs," Bobby said. "Jody's got her deputies on high alert and I just cornered Balthazar to go heal the one the shifter got the jump on."

"How bad was it?" Dean asked, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of someone being hurt just because he happened to live in the same town.

"Concussion," Bobby said. "He's fine. And Azrael has a lot of signs around town now leading the shifters to us instead of downtown."

Which meant they would be coming for his house and Johnny. It might have been the necessary thing to do, but it didn't mean he had to like this plan any better. "How long until they get here, do you think?" Dean asked.

"Depends on how many he got through to and how many of those are like our new friend here," Bobby said, jerking his head in Ash's direction.

"There will be a few," Ash said. "I don't pretend that there isn't a higher than normal number of bad apples in the bunch with shifters. Though a lot of that has to do with how we were raised and whether or not we were raised by the Alpha."

"You weren't?" Dean asked. Because it seemed to him if there were going to be any "bad apples" it would be because of the thing who unknowingly raped women in the form of their husbands then killed them after they gave him a baby.

"Nope. Grandmother was, but she settled down once my mom was born and changed her mind about the Alpha. Mom was raised by her and I was raised by my mom. Some of them go bad when they're rejected by the 'normal' parent, like I was. But usually, it's because the shifter parent is kind of shitty at being a mom or dad."

Dean thought back to the shifter they'd encountered just after he got Sam hunting again. He didn't seem like he was raised by the Alpha, which meant he was one of those sad sons of bitches who was left with nothing in terms of family. It almost made him feel bad for the bastard, but not really.

He heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, followed by Chewie's happy trot behind them. "We've got the wiring set up in the bedrooms," Emma said. "Sam's just about done with the attic."

"Good," Ash said. "Then that means we have some silver to install." He put on a pair of thick leather gloves—not the kind Dean wore working on the car, but the kind that probably cost a pretty penny. It was strange seeing someone wearing his old friend's face but with a sense of style and a hell of a lot more in the way of money. He opened the plastic container he'd brought in from his car and pulled out several new doorknobs. They had a slightly tarnished look and at first glance, they might appear to be pewter, but Dean knew better. "You hunters cut yourselves too often testing for this. We are highly, highly allergic to silver, like some people are to nickel. We touch this stuff and we break out in hives. You'll want to keep them semi-polished, like this. Too much tarnish, it might be enough of a barrier not to work. Too little, anyone will know that's silver and not pewter or steel."

"So you mean all these years we've been cutting up our arms... all we needed to do was _touch_ something silver?" Dean asked.

"Also applies to werewolves, skinwalkers... all of us." At Dean's incredulous look, Ash shrugged. "See what happens when we work together? You get useful information like that."

Dean grabbed the plastic bin, ready to do a little handiwork; he didn't bother this ash because not only was he allergic to the stuff, it was fairly obvious he didn't do this kind of work often. "I'll be right—"

"We have some visitors," Metatron said, appearing so suddenly that Dean nearly dropped the box and sent the silver fixtures clamoring to the ground. "A lot of them. I could see them from the roof. A van with at least eight inside, and two more cars."

On a snowy day, a holiday, there was no reason for anyone to be coming up the road to Bobby's house. He gave a quick look in the kitchen and saw Cas had cleaned their son up with a quick touch of his fingers and was unbuckling him from the high chair. Johnny was in good hands, which meant Dean could keep his focus on the fight heading their way.


	4. We Gather Together

_A/N: I'm so sorry for the long wait on this one. It's been a hectic few weeks with the holidays, not to mention the realization that this story wasn't going to end the way I had intended because there were too many angels to let the boys actually do anything. I suddenly appreciate why having an angel as a regular character in the show can be a problem for plot. Thanks for all the kind reviews!_

Chapter 4

We Gather Together

"_Family is family, and is not determined by marriage certificates, divorce papers, and adoption documents. Families are made in the heart." C. Joy Bell C._

Gabriel heard Dean and Sam make noises of protest as the angels all took off toward the approaching van. Unfortunately for the hunters, there were shortcomings to being a human. Within moments, Gabriel, Metatron and Balthazar were aboard the moving vehicles and shipping the shifters to the Sioux Falls jail. In one of the nearby cells, a man who looked to be drying out from too much early celebrating stared at them, or rather, attempted to.

The man's head bobbed and swayed as he gaped at the three angels and their passengers. Gabriel tried not to laugh as he began self-administering a drunk test on himself, trying to focus on his finger while reciting the alphabet backwards.

"Go back to the house," he told the other two who were _still_ trying to keep as much distance as possible between themselves. Someone needed to talk to them and soon. "Make sure that we don't have any more visitors." He didn't need to tell them to keep the kid safe, though Johnny had certainly wormed into their hearts that there was no doubt they would do anything for him. Cas had the baby and nothing in the world was going to come near them as long as Johnny's Tad had him.

With a snap of his fingers, Gabriel was on the other side of the bars and offered a wink to the drunk, only to finally lose it when the man attempted—and failed at least three times—to snap his fingers and get free of his own cell. One of the deputies came rushing back at the sound of his laughter, gun drawn and looking deadly serious as she pointed it squarely in his face. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm one of the good guys. I brought you a few more shifters."

The deputy narrowed her eyes at him. "Prove it."

Another snap of his fingers turned her gun into a superpowered water gun, which she, in her shock, promptly used to squirt him in the face. "I'm an angel, Deputy Arbor," he said, drying himself and turning the gun back into a real weapon. "Is Sheriff Mills around?"

The deputy nodded and led him out, looking torn between being suspicious and in awe of the angel. Gabriel was still trying to grasp the concept of this many people being certain, absolutely certain, of their existence. The sheriff had her hand at her hip as they approached, but visibly relaxed in the split second it took her to realize who he was.

"Gabriel," she said, though it was very nearly a question. Given that she'd been dealing with shifters all day, he couldn't say he blamed her. "What is it?"

"We've got a few more shifter.s They're in the cooler for now, unconscious. They'll be out for a while until we decide what to do with them."

"Why didn't you just kill them right away?" the woman who had given him the warm greeting in the jail asked.

"Because it has been pointed out to us that not all shifters are evil, not any more than there are some bad humans in the bunch." He turned his attention back to the sheriff. "Plus, we may need them for info later. They'll be out for a day at least."

"Are you sure?" Jody asked. "Because they're stronger than humans."

"If they were humans, they'd be out for days," Gabriel said. "It's not an exact science, but I can guarantee you a day. Now, we need to get back to the house." He offered her a small smile. "And with any luck, we'll have this whole thing sorted out in time for everyone to make their Thanksgiving dinners."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Jody said.

"Oh ye of little faith."

#

Though the real Ash had been gungho about all this hunting business, Ash was reminded how very much he liked his nice, normal life—helping other creatures aside—when he saw the creepy lady angel headed his way. His hearing wasn't much more acute than the humans in the house, but it hadn't been needed to hear the other shifter screaming from the basement. All of that pain had been at the angel's hands. Naturally, he wasn't looking forward to being in the same room with her, even if Charlie was working toward naming her a BFF.

"I have found the location of the would-be alpha," Azrael said as she stood in front of him. She was keeping a reasonable distance, but to Ash, knowing how she had just tortured the shifter downstairs, she didn't feel all that distant.

"Do I even want to know _how_ you know?"

"I tapped into his mind and soul, and I traced the connection to Erie, Ohio," she said, not even pausing to spare him the details.

"Okay. Then, I guess you're off to Erie."

"Yes, but to call off the troops, I will need to get a new message out, one claiming the Winchesters are dead. To do that without sending it to all creatures everywhere, which would certainly raise suspicion, I will need a willing conduit."

Ash didn't like the sound of being a "conduit." "It's going to hurt, isn't it?"

"A bit, but you will live."

"Not the most reassuring thing you could have said. Especially not with a dead shifter downstairs." He didn't know that for sure, but he was fairly certain that the other of his kind was now dead.

Azrael inclined her head slightly. It was a nod, which confirmed that suspicion. Ash could have done without being right about this, or without the knowledge that he was going to cause the death of more of his kind today.

"We should go," Azrael said, placing her hand on his shoulder. Almost instantly, they were somewhere else. And for a moment, his capitalistic mind took over from his fear. It struck him that he could save a lot of money on fuel for his jet if he hired an angel.

"So what do we do?" he asked, quietly, as he looked around the room

"We flush him out. He's hiding in this room."

"Can't you just... make him dead?" Ash asked.

"As a last resort, of course, but to get the proper tone of his messages, it will be better if he is alive," she said as she stalked the room and moved behind the sofa. "You can come out now. We aren't going anywhere." Ash watched the shifter slowly moved from behind the couch. He rose, and rose, and rose. He utterly dwarfed the angel. "You aren't much of an Alpha if you are going to spend your time cowering behind a settee," she said with a smirk in her voice though her face only offered a raise of her eyebrows.

It seemed to get the shifter's hackles up, and Ash instinctively moved to protect her from the swing of a massive fist, but he had been standing too far away and the would-be Alpha was far too fast for him to do anything. He didn't need to, anyway. All the seemingly forceful punch managed to do was make the fabric of Azrael's suitcoat sway.. "Highly amusing as it might be to watch you tired as you attempt to use me as a punching bag, I have a turkey to fry, and it is getting quite late."

Azrael raised her hand and the would-be Alpha was against the wall, held there by an invisible force, but suddenly and completely unconscious. "Ash, I will need you now."

"Are you usre you know what you're doing?" he asked. "Alphas have a very specific way of communicating."

The smile that he got in return chilled him to the core. "You mean being persuasive enough that you can draw hundreds or thousands to a single location merely because you have ordered it? Commanding enough that no one questions it? And powerful in a way that shows you have earned your title as Alpha?" she asked. "I think I can handle that." She placed her hand against the other shifter's head and motioned for Ash to step forward. At this point, he wasn't sure whether it was more of a death wish to obey or run away.

He opted to obey, hoping that her soft spot for the Winchesters would carry over to those who helped them.

"Let's get to work." Her cool palm met his forehead, and he could feel her in his mind almost instantly. Almost as though he could touch it physically, he could feel her forging a connection with the other shifter. It hurt, but was nowhere near the excruciating pain he had expected. "Think of his last message to you. Keep it in the front of your mind where I can access it easily. I need it to match his tone." He did as she instructed, and a new message quickly replaced it. "My children, I have received word from the most faithful, dutiful of your brethren. The Winchesters are dead. The angel and the baby have gone into hiding. We have them running scared, and you must all be rewarded for their good work."

Then, Ash experienced a feeling that he hadn't thought he would never feel again, with the real Alpha dead. It was a feeling of warmth and belonging and family that none of the would-be leaders had managed in the last year. It was this feeling that made following orders so enticing. Maybe it would have come with time, but Azrael had needed no time. Ash was almost certain that no one could imitate it without having experienced it for themselves, which meant only one thing. This angel was an Alpha, there was absolutely no doubt of it, but of what? He could guess, but he didn't think it would give him any peace of mind.

No sooner had that realization hit him than the pain started. He had expected, as the connection was broken, for it to begin, but he had anticipated nothing like this. He was collapsing to his knees, with Azrael following him down to keep the physical contact with his head. He could see the other shifter slumping down, dead, against the wall, and he knew the connection was long since broken. Yet the pain was not letting up. In fact, it was spreading through his body.

"I am sorry for the pain, but it is not without good reason. I put in a good word for you upstairs," she said. "We decided if there was anyone who should be an Alpha, it should be the one who has worked so hard to better conditions, for non-humans, and who tries to stop non-humans from hurting others."

"We?" Ash asked as he struggled to look at her, rather than clamp his eyes shut in pain.

"Me and Him. With the capital H."

"You can communicate with him that easily?" Ash asked as her hand left his head and he could properly collapse to the brown-carpeted floor. "I didn't know he dealt with Alphas." He gave her a look that made it clear he wasn't talking about himself.

"I can," she said. "And some Alphas are simply special." She offered her hand to him to help him to his feet. "It may be of little meaning to you at the moment, but He has decided to open heave to all worthy souls, regardless of their type. Humanity is no longer a requirement."

Trying not to show that he was genuinely pleased at the prospect of spending the afterlife in an eternal hunting ground, Ash met the angel's eyes. "And what of those who were already sent there?"

"We're sorting it out slowly. We even found a vampire there who has been willing to help us, rather than immediately move on to Heaven. He is now even jokingly calling himself the King of Purgatory, for how much the other creatures want to be in his good favor." Ash reluctantly took her hand and let her right him to his feet.

"So He's taking a more active role?" he asked as he pointed toward the ceiling with one hand and rubbed his head with the other.

"For now. He's cleaning up the mess he allowed to happen. Just like any party, when a pity party goes on too long, there's a hell of a mess to clean up afterward."

"That's what the Apocalypse was? A pity party?"

"Essentially." She prepared to wave her hand again, probably to transport them somewhere else. "Oh, you are free to discuss me with Dean or Bobby. No one else. You'll find yourself incapable of it."

"But if we're both Alphas..."

Azrael smiled. "You know I'm more than just an Alpha."

Yes. He did.

#

"This just doesn't feel right. I haven't done anything," Dean said, earning a withering look from Cas. "It isn't the same. You were guarding Johnny and keeping him safe. Your family just did _everything_."

"Not everything," Cas said as he bounced Johnny on his knee. "You _did_ make a turkey."

Dean's eyes narrowed on his partner. "Bite me, smarta—smart alek."

"You are improving," Cas said over Johnny's laughter.

"Won't matter. He'll still know more swear words than a sailor by the time he starts school." Dean pulled the turkey out of the pan to rest and set the pan atop the burner to make gravy. The laptop was back out to tell him the best way to do this without making it lumpy or making it taste like shit. When had this become his life? Where he would let other people resolve his problems for him and he made a turkey dinner.

"Very likely," Cas replied as their son suddenly became fascinated with the whisk in Dean's hand. The angel gave a somewhat pensive look. "Do you mind it, being domestic like this?"

Dean shook his head. "You know I don't," he said. "But I don't like feeling like I don't have a purpose."

"Not every day will find us with a house full of angels, but having them available isn't the worst thing in the world. It means I don't have to worry about you as much, either."

The house was quickly filling up once again with humans and angels. Ash was standing outside, deep in a discussion with Azrael while she fried her turkey. Dean supposed he should be grateful she hadn't decided to fry an assortment of carnival fare along with the bird. She certainly had a love for all things greasy and bad for you. Balthazar and Metatron had returned, and they looked like they were at least talking, which was an improvement. Gabriel had returned with Jody after sorting everything out with the other shifters, and Charlie was busting to finish her work on the security system to go outside and join Azrael. Dean was beginning to wonder if she'd developed a crush, and if she did, he thought it would be the kind thing for her to be let down easy.

Carefully, he poured the surprisingly non-lumpy gravy into a bowl. They didn't have one of those gravy boat things. "I never thought this would be my life," Dean said as he looked at the finished result of his work. A full Thanksgiving dinner that looked as edible as it actually was—he'd been taste testing all day. "I didn't think I'd get that. Or that if I had a kid, he could just leave hunting behind and become a _teacher._"

"I don't think he's left it all behind, but I imagine he's smart enough to know his limitations." Cas gently rubbed a thumb over the end of Johnny's left arm. "But I don't think he's any less a hunter or at least helping than you are because you have a mechanic's shop."

"It's not a shop yet," Dean said. Then he called out to everyone in the livingroom, where a large table had been set up to hold them all, "Okay people, get in here and help haul this stuff out."

The small kitchen suddenly flooded with people and angels, all taking a dish to the table. Dean could hear a tiny voice calling out "Dada!" and saw small arms reaching up toward him.

"I'll get the turkey," Cas said, passing their son to Dean's waiting arms. The angel moved to the platter on the oven and carried it into the room where Dean's new family was bickering over who would sit by whom, where a dog was dutifully curled in the corner awaiting scraps, where his brother was leaning over his girlfriend with a kiss to her cheek and getting a friendly smile from her mother, where Bobby and Jody were already acting like newlyweds with their exchanges of small smiles and touching way too much. They had even added two new guests for the day, since they had both already canceled their own Thanksgiving plans. It made for a very happy setting.

Johnny grabbed Dean's nose and gave it a firm squeeze. "Dada smile!"

"Yeah, I'm smiling, kid, but I don't do that with my nose." He gently pried Johnny's fingers away.

Cas had just set the platter on the table as Dean took his seat at the head. "It's not such a bad life, though, is it?"

Johnny snuggled close, meaning he wasn't going to cooperate with being put back in the high chair so soon, and Cas was just smiling at him, looking so damned content Dean was sure his chest might burst. "No, not a bad life at all."


End file.
